


Begin Again

by tcarroll_12



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Post-Season/Series 02, Pre-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:34:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29461350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tcarroll_12/pseuds/tcarroll_12
Summary: Two and a half years after Miller and Hardy parted ways with a handshake, Hardy finds himself back in Broadchurch.
Relationships: Alec Hardy & Ellie Miller, Alec Hardy/Ellie Miller
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

“Well,” said Elaine Jenkinson, rising fluidly to her feet as Hardy approached the table. “There’s a sight for sore eyes. What’s it been, two years now?” They exchanged a firm handshake as Hardy grimaced. “Has it really been that bad, that _I’m_ a welcome sight?” he half-joked. “And two and a half, if anyone’s counting.”

“You certainly look healthier than the last time I saw you,” she said with a teasing smile and a raised brow.

“Well, I most likely _am_ healthier,” he admitted with a short chuckle. “Not chasin’ down suspects with a bad heart will do that tae ye.”

“How is it? The pacemaker, I mean?”

“S'fine,” Hardy said lightly. “Doin’ its job proper.”

“And how is the _owner_ of the pacemaker?” Elaine fixed him with a leveling gaze.

Hardy smiled dismissively, expertly masking his true feelings under a professional front. Damn, he hadn’t had to do that for a long while. Was it bad that he almost _missed_ it?

“The owner is fine,” he answered evenly. “Bit of a switch in professions, but other than that, nothing to report.”

“Switch in professions?” Her curiosity was piqued.

“Aye. Freelance labour here and there. Very laid-back sort of adventure.”

Jenkinson tilted her head up the slightest, waiting for clarification, but that was all he would say on the matter.

“Speaking of here and there, are you local again?” Elaine asked casually.

Hardy pondered his answer for a moment, biting the corner of his lip and glancing away before giving a small embarrassed smile. “I guess you could say that,” he ventured cautiously. Elaine cocked her head, waiting for an explanation. “I… may or may not be staying in an abandoned shack… not too far outside town?”

Now she looked at him in consternation. “You’re squatting,” she repeated flatly.

“Ye—well, I’ve been out wandering for the last year and a half,” he protested half-heartedly. “A’ve only ben in town a few days; I was up near Birmingham when I saw your email. I was…” He paused, unsure whether to reveal this slightly embarrassing detail, then decided he could trust her with it. “Down tae my last ten pound after gettin’ the train down ’ere.”

Jenkinson’s face paled slightly. She had prepared to take a draught from her coffee, but at Hardy’s revelation she lowered the cup in shock. That certainly explained the sizeable duffel bag he’d come in with.

“Don’ look at me li’ that,” he smirked. “S'not like a've ben a starvin’ vagabond or somethin’. I did plenty of labour here an’ there when a needed the money, an’ most folk had no problem puttin’ me up in a spare room or even in a barn, a di'n care a whit. Jes’ so happened that a was in between jobs when you contacted me.” He took a long, nonchalant draught from his own cup.

“Well, it’ll be nice to have you and Ellie working together again,” the super mulled, once she’d recovered from this rather unexpected update.

Hardy choked on his latte. _“Miller’s_ back?!” he coughed once he’d recovered enough to speak.

“Yes, I thought you were aware of that,” Elaine answered casually, looking at him in puzzlement.

“No, a wasn’t!” He coughed one last time and wiped a hand across his watering eyes. That news certainly threw a wrench in the works. He would forever be indebted to her for helping him solve the worst case of his career, but…

_“A handshake?”_

_"Yep. Not hugging you.”_

“ _Ultimately_ , _we’re_ _all alone."_

He couldn’t deny the skyrocket of his pulse, and not from inhaling liquid. A second chance, or was Fate ripping out his still-fragile heart yet again? _Calm down,_ he berated himself as the logical side of him grabbed the emotional by the shoulders. _She’s probably already romantically involved with someone else anyway._

_Even if she wasn’t, she showed her feelings toward you pretty clearly._

Could he work alongside her again, now that everything had changed?

Could he work with someone he desperately wanted but would never have?

Elaine bemusedly watched his silent battle play out, sipping on her drink as the former detective's face paled and he struggled to rein in his emotions. With a mighty effort of will he forced everything back inside the black iron box kept in the hollow chamber of his soul, and sucked in a deep breath. Then he scrubbed a pensive hand over his jaw, pulled the corner of his mouth in, and exhaled. “Well, you need a DI, an a've stuck my foot in this far,” he murmured. He could look at this as a test of his resolve.

Elaine frowned. “Well, curb your rampant enthusiasm, please,” she said sardonically. “I won’t give you the position if you’re simply going to _resign_ yourself to it. I need someone with a passion for justice, not just a passion for payday.”

He shook his head, backpedaling. “No, no, I’ll do it, no problem,” he assured her. “I just—I wasn’t expecting to be working with DS Miller again, that’s all; am still sort of in shock. Good for her she’s back. She hated Devon.”

“So it’s settled then,” the super confirmed, sticking out her hand once more. Hardy shook it just as firmly as before. “You can start on Monday. I’ll have the paperwork drawn up by Friday and Edison’s workstation should be scrubbed and ready for you by then. I’ll let you know Thursday evening, and we can set up a time to meet in my office.”

“Aye.”

Elaine caught the subtle shift in his expression, and prodded innocently, “Anything else, Alec?”

“Ah…” He sighed shortly and gave an embarrassed chuckle. “You don’t… know of anyone who needs any labour done, do you?”

“Not off the top of—” She sighed. “For heaven's sake, Alec, there’s no shame in taking out a small loan to help y—”

“I don’t _need_ a loan,” he protested. “A just need a job tae do for cash. Besides, a haven’ got a physical address. Ma chances for a reputable loan are slim to none, even if a wanted tae go that route.”

“Then stop by The Echo after this,” she suggested, sounding slightly exasperated by his stubbornness. “You can look at the classifieds for labour _and_ rooms. But you need to find something by Monday, even if it’s just a hotel room; you know as well as I do you can’t be squatting, much less as an _officer.”_

He nodded obediently. “Yes mam.”

“One more piece of advice before we part ways,” she concluded, rising to her feet. Alec looked at her questioningly, all ears. “Don’t wait til Monday to visit with Ellie. She may even be willing to board you til you’re settled in, if you ask nicely enough.”

He nodded curtly and sipped his latte, but said nothing, fully intending to wait until Monday indeed. He had no idea if he could control himself around her in a casual setting (what does one even say after two years apart, with no contact?). Perhaps, he thought to himself, it would help him keep his distance if he annoyed her right from the start.

He sat at the table pondering for a few more minutes, then used the restroom to change back into his more comfortable wandering clothes, pulling his bandana over his nose and his sunglasses over his eyes. Satisfied he was thus unrecognizable, he then headed for The Trader’s on foot.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reintroducing himself to Becca Fisher and the Traders Hotel.

Though Hardy was absolutely surprised to see Becca Fisher still running the inn, he carefully kept it from his expression. She looked up as he approached, briefly glancing at his oversized duffel bag, well-worn hoodie and weathered jeans, and he saw with some amusement the briefest flash of displeasure and uncertainty pass over her pretty features before settling on cold professionalism.

“Welcome to the Trader's,” she greeted him in a neutral tone. “How can I help you?”

Hardy couldn’t keep a sly grin from his face as he pushed his sunglasses up and pulled the black bandana down off his nose to reveal his true identity, reveling in the woman’s shock as she recognized the man who stood before her. “DI _Hardy?!”_

The Scottish man ran his tongue over his top teeth and nodded. “Ms Fisher.”

She waved it off. “Becca, please. Oh my gosh, I just can’t believe it’s _you!_ It’s been, what, two years?” She looked him over again with this new information, incredibly curious as to why he was dressed like a homeless man.

“Two and a half,” he corrected automatically. “Erm, listen… I know it’s ben a long time, but…” He bit his lower lip. “I need a favor.”

The blonde woman nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, sure, anything! Well, almost anything. I’m not getting you any _coke,_ if that’s what you’re after, learned my lesson on that.”

“Wha—no, am not after coke! Or any other kind of drugs, for that matter,” Hardy countered indignantly. “I just—need a favor. That’s all.” He took a breath, let it out, splayed his long, labour-roughened hands on the counter, and leaned in a bit closer to her, lowering his voice despite the lack of other people in the vicinity. “I’m takin’ over my old job here as detective inspector, startin’ Monday. Jenkinson got hold o' me ou’ o’ th’ blue, I guess the current bloke got in an accident.”

Becca grimaced. “Yeah, it was awful! All over the news and everything, poor guy.”

Hardy nodded and continued his narrative. “I’ve been out and about in the countryside fer the las’ two years, an’ a’ve got nothin’ tae my name but the clothes on ma back and tha ’hings in this bag. No roof over my head, no proper suit for work… and ten pound cash in my pocket.” He turned his palms up in a pleading gesture, silently imploring her to understand.

“Yeah, no problem,” she answered quickly, looking at him with concern in her eyes as she pulled up her bookings log.

“I’ve got no other obligations, so as long as a’ve got enough money fer sustenance and a piece or two o’ new cloth, the rest is all yours,” he promised.

“I know you’re good for it. Besides, you caught Danny’s killer. That was good enough for a lot of people.”

Hardy drew the corner of his mouth in and raised an eyebrow. He still wasn’t proud of that, by any means.

“And you just told me where you’ll be working, so if anything goes south, I know where to send someone to break your fingers,” she joked, picking up on his uneasiness at the mention of the Latimer case. Luckily, he chuckled quietly at that. “Any preference on the room? First or second floor, smoking, non-smoking?”

He shook his head. “Long as the shower and toilet work, that’s good enough.” Then he paused, briefly mulling it over. “Erm, actually, non-smoking please, now that I think about it.”

“Right. I’ve got a quiet corner space for you, ground floor, no one above at the moment. Contact details still the same?”

“Er—no, actually,” he stuttered, hastily fishing a flip-phone from his hoodie pouch. “I bricked my old one barely a week after I left Sandbrook. This one a got just in case of emergencies, I don’t even know the number tae be honest…”

She typed a few more things into the log, then turned round and plucked a key off the board behind her. He took it gratefully, and hesitantly asked if she needed or knew of anyone that needed any manual labour done for cash. She thought for a moment, then said graciously, “Tell you what. Let me grab Neill to watch the front desk so I can pop down to the bank. I can front you maybe a grand, we’ll work out a payment schedule later on tonight or sometime this weekend?”

At first Hardy opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it and shut it again with a grateful nod. That would get him a decent start to a business wardrobe at least, and something besides another Tesco £3 meal deal for dinner (not that he was knocking those). “If ye don’t mind, I’m gonna pop in the shower for a bit,” he said somewhat hesitantly. “Erm, I’ll meet you in the bar after dinner hours, how’s that sound?”

“Yeah, that works,” she agreed amicably. “See ya then.”


End file.
